


Conflict(?) Avoidance

by therainbowfic



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Alien Biology, Alien anatomy, Anal Fingering, Avoidance, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Bottom James T. Kirk, Deepthroating, Eventual Smut, Finger Sucking, First Kiss, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Hand & Finger Kink, Kissing, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Oral Fixation, Oral Sex, Smut, Spock is quick to think negatively, Top Spock, Touch Telepathy, self-confidence issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-24 02:29:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17092343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/therainbowfic/pseuds/therainbowfic
Summary: Captain Kirk was, in no uncertain terms, avoiding his first officer.Whether it was for a good reason remained to be seen.





	1. The One Where It All Makes Sense

**Author's Note:**

> Eyyy I love these dorks and WOW are they bad at feelings
> 
> Smut in second chapter y'all

With immense honesty, Spock could say that he did not at all understand James Tiberius Kirk.

It was not that the Captain eluded him entirely; he _knew_ him, and he could observe his behavior around his shipmates and friends, and he could see that something changed when he spoke with Spock, but whether that change was due to discomfort (or something else, though he could not imagine what), he could not tell. He would not admit that it was frustrating.

When the Captain met his eyes, he looked away. When their movements nearly resulted In physical touch, the Captain swiftly repositioned himself. Even while alone together on the bridge—on away missions—in his quarters playing chess—the Captain, in the last few weeks, seemed to avoid him. It had not been sudden, and he could not be sure which scenario was more alarming. Spock's first instinct had been to simply _ask_ , as was the logical thing to do.

After watching his captain nearly drop his pawn in his haste to dodge Spock's fingers sliding a knight forward and to the side, Spock said with a hint of a sigh, "Sir. I have reason to believe that you are somehow avoiding me. Have I offended you? I assure you that it was not my intention, and I will take the necessary steps to prevent repeating my actions." He was earnest, yes, but internally his statements were tinged with exasperation. If his captain was so disgusted by him, surely it was illogical to continue these games.

His first mistake was expecting logic. His captain's eyes snapped up and widened as if Spock has just slapped him, and pink was blooming on his cheeks, but in the next instant he was grinning. "Spock, Spock, I'm not avoiding you—I'm playing chess with you, for God's sake! Don't be silly. You didn't do a thing. Now," he said quickly, jutting his pawn forward, "your turn."

Spock blinked and looked back down at the board. His captain had practically forfeited the game with that move—further proof that something was wrong. That is not to say that he needed any more convincing, but surely it was necessary to be certain in such things. As such, Spock stayed and completed the game despite the fact that both of them knew Jim Kirk had doomed himself to a slow and agonizing death via Spock's queen. He convinced himself that he spent that time collecting pertinent data rather than simply watching the way his captain's eyes seemed to flicker to and away from him. That did not match his hypothesis. When he finally got up to leave after soundly defeating his captain, he could not shake the feeling that by returning to his quarters, he was disappointing the man.

And again, he was confused.

The next was an arduous month for Spock. By now, that avoidance was becoming tiring in more ways than one. The Captain, he'd believed, was the closest thing he would ever have to a friend. This friend of his had now proceeded to neglect many aspects of a traditional human companionship for no discernable reason, but the possible one that had not stopped circling round and round Spock's head remained the same: _discomfort._ Spock was too Vulcan. Perhaps even too human. Too _something,_ it seemed. Maybe it was his failure to laugh when the captain attempted humor. Or instead his insistence that he follow his own safety regulations. Worse, he imagined that it could be his previous request for more one-on-one discussion of the proceedings of the _Enterprise._ The Captain had been surprised—had it been veiled revulsion? He dreaded the thought. His own attempts at closeness, then, had in all likelihood driven his captain away. Their chess games were now only a product of politeness.

Logically, then, he would piece back what he could by removing himself. He promptly informed the Captain through PADD message that he would no longer be available for their usual chess matches, as they served no true purpose to the ship or its crew. _They are little more than a distraction_ , he had typed, and did not mean it.

His captain did not reply. They did not meet for another match once in the next weeks. Their eyes met on the bridge that next morning, and Spock fought the urge to say something, to demand that he fight it. Part of him, illogically, had hoped that Jim Kirk's stubborn spirit would show and he would receive an incredulous message denouncing the very idea of stopping—even better, a horrified Jim at his door, asking why on Earth Spock was acting so strangely. He dismissed that thought, ignoring the warmth in his cheeks. He was to be a first officer and to perform his duties excellently regardless of his relationship with the captain, and he would start by paying far less attention to his captain's behaviors.

He succeeded in this endeavor for approximately a week and a half. Instead of avoiding him, now, his captain was engaging in some strange dance. He would stare when he did not believe that Spock was looking, and quickly avert his eyes when Spock was. He would still ardently avoid touch; Spock was no closer to his answer, at least for the moment.

It was 01:43 eleven days after his vow to separate himself from his captain when Spock ran into Jim Tiberius Kirk in a nondescript hallway of the Starship Enterprise and finally understood.

In a clumsy _thump_ of PADDs and papers and one three-quarters-empty coffee mug, Spock's hand met his captain's skin and with it came a flood of the expected surprise—but then affection and respect and adoration and fear and nervous apprehension and doubt and suddenly _love_ , and Spock was frozen on the ground with unpleasantly cold mocha staining his science blues, staring into Jim's wide, horrified eyes.

"I… Captain—" He broke off, that warmth in his cheeks returning. This time, it spread to his ears and seemed to heat his whole head, scrambling his thoughts further. He considered responding. He then realized that he could not, at least not coherently. Instead, he lowered his shields and irresponsibly filled Jim's mind with two months' worth of jumbled emotion. His current priority was watching red wash over Jim's face in a brilliant spread not unlike fire as _love, love, love_ rang in their heads in tandem, and his next was responding in kind when his lips were taken with burning decisiveness. Upon the break, he could only (somewhat) breathe and blink and stare at _Jim_ , his captain and _t'hy'la._ Red and panting and looking absolutely in shock, Jim slowly broke into a tired, wild grin.

"After… After all that," he breathed. His eyes trailed Spock once again, taking in his green-painted features and the look and his eyes that screamed _this is right_. "I didn’t—I never wanted to make you feel like I… Gods, Spock, I'd never be disgusted by you."

He was met with a kiss and a quiet "Of course, Jim." Spock knew that was a demon to tackle later, in his heart, but he was very much determined to ignore that for the moment. He had more pressing matters. With one movement, he got onto his feet and helped Jim stand back up, preening at the pulse of appreciation and affection he received. Silently, he thanked his restlessness that night and allowed himself another kiss.


	2. The One Where They Make Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and enjoy!! Post a comment if you liked and I'll cry probably!! :)

Jim was the happiest man in the goddamn universe. Jim was also the only man in the universe sucking Spock off.

Those might've coincided.

He could see Spock going steadily greener as his mouth bobbed over the double ridges of the Vulcan's head. With each bob came a suck that sent pleasure in a tensing of his body, and Jim delighted in feeling it. Spock, despite himself, was relaxing back into his bed and sinking into the sheets and had to bite back a gasp as Jim swallowed him down further. He'd almost said no when Jim had offered. They'd both felt that spike of desire, though: it was clear the hesitation was out of pure Vulcan stubbornness. Now, Jim just wanted to make sure he didn't regret it. Spock had to unwind—had to be _raw._ And he had been, with Jim's hands sliding up his chest and pushing his shirt up and off, and his mouth sucking a green mark onto his neck, his lips dragging down to the bulge in his pants. He was now, with the wet heat of Jim's mouth surrounding him. Jim, if he admitted it, was being cruel. Every suck and lick was more focused on teasing Spock at the moment than actually getting him off, and it was working. After he slipped his cock out of his mouth with a slow drag that made Spock hum, he grinned before he could stop himself.

"Well, you just look positively _wrecked,_ Mr. Spock."

Panting softly, the Vulcan most certainly did not glare at his captain. "Is… Is _now_ the time to speak?"

"Is that your way of saying 'hurry up and blow me'?" Jim teased, but not for long; in the next second, Spock was hissing with pleasure as the man slowly laved his tongue over the two vertical lines of raised bumps along the green-tinged cock in front of him. This was as much for Jim as it was for Spock, honestly. The front of his pants was bulging with a painful hard-on; just the feeling of his jaw aching as he took in the length of him, or his tongue against those bumps, was making him dizzy with pleasure, and he sat there a moment with Spock metaphorically balls-deep in his throat, given they were internal. His throat was constricting in a very pleasant way that he didn't want to admit was making the front of his underwear wet with precum. Starting to undo his pants, Jim drew off again and lapped the textured underside of Spock's dick eagerly, then let out a moan once he finally wrapped a hand around his weeping cock. He stroked once, shuddered, and looked back to Spock—that nearly did it. His first officer was looking down at him with an expression mixed between the usual Vulcan stoicism, awe, and lust.

He couldn't take it another second. He moved up and kissed Spock hard, then took one of his hands and promptly stuck two fingers right in his mouth. He'd never forget that look on Spock's face—he went green from his ears to his neck and let out a choked gasp like Jim had deepthroated him in a single try. _Bless Vulcans and their hands._ Now, he alternated between soft sucks and running his tongue along the pads of Spock's fingers to the skin between his fingers. He wasn't getting any better at avoiding the teasing, because Spock looked on the verge of begging or just nerve pinching him. He knew what to do, though—sliding his arms up around Jim's sides, he circled his wetted two around his entrance and took his lips in another kiss. Jim was more than relaxed; once Spock slipped his fingers inside, his hole seemed to draw them in, and it was easy enough to stretch him open. Slowly, Spock's cock was pressed inside, and Jim had to muffle his moan into his first officer's neck as he felt each bump and ridge stretch him further. _God,_ he'd be ruined for human dick forever. Now it was getting difficult to keep his mouth shut, as Spock started to push in and out of him. He could feel the drag of that raised surface inside him driving him crazy. Just had to— _fuck,_ and he was leaking pre again—hold _on…_ He risked another glance at the man fucking him; his look was measured and calm, but his eyes were so dark with lust Jim nearly let out another moan. _Shit._

Before he knew it, Spock had him on his back and was spreading him with his hands, thrusting so slowly he could feel every inch of the form of his cock _in_ and _out_ and _in_ and—

And he was cumming, grabbing any skin he could in front of him and arching his back as his orgasm ripped out of him, and never had he been so damn thankful for Spock in his life than right then as he wrapped a hand around his twitching length and stroked him to completion, squeezing him dry and making him muffle another too-loud moan. He was still swimming in a post-orgasm haze as Spock pulled out fully, and he wasn’t proud of the whine he made at the feeling of emptiness that followed. As he panted and enjoyed the sight of a very-close Spock over him, he felt cum cover his already messy stomach and soft dick.

He was still shivering lightly. This, Jim decided, was the best decision he'd ever made. With a soft groan of his own, Spock laid next to him and not-so-discreetly looked over his prone body, admiring the stripes of milky white covering his abdomen. Jim grinned, catching his eye, and gave him another searing kiss. He could get used to this.


End file.
